


No Ordinary Rabbit

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has been changed and has become a wild and feral creature. The only one capable of taming him is Dean. Some dubious consent issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Ordinary Rabbit

It was the day after (yet another) successful hunt. Beasties eradicated, pretty screaming co-eds saved (and properly grateful) and motel scammed out of a room. Dean hummed along with the cassette, fingers tapping on the wheel along with the baseline.

Sam was ignoring him. Nothing new there. Dean glanced over. He was tempted to spice things up a little, make Sam sing along – always good for mocking purposes – or something. Instead, he hesitated. Sam was not looking good at all. It wasn’t his usual emo I-hate-the-world-ness. This was looking to throw up ill.

“Hey, Sam.” Dean slapped Sam’s arm. He got a whine in response. “Something you ate, dude? Cause you better not puke on the leather. I’ve cleaned too much of your puke out of this car.”

Sam blearily opened one eye and took a moment to focus on him. “Just cold. Need some sleep.”

Dean reached out his hand. Sam didn’t look cold. He looked… Dean laid his hand on Sam’s forehead. “Running a fever, there. Think we better find someplace for you to rest up.”

Sam didn’t reply. He didn’t even push Dean’s hand away. He just let his eye shut again and slumped even more heavily against the door.

 

Sam didn’t wake when they arrived at the motel. He hadn’t stirred at all really since Dean had pointed out his fever. Dean was used to this. Sam was sick. Therefore Sam slept. Sam had always done this as a kid and it was reassuring that his body still worked the same way.

Helping Sam into the motel room was tough. Sam complained incomprehensibly when opened the door and shook him. Dean’s sympathy was definitely being tested. He knew that if Sam was this sick, there was very little chance of him escaping this either. He left Sam in the car for a few more minutes while he took their duffels into the room. After looking around, he popped the trunk and loaded up a bag of weapons and the cleaning gear. Might as well get some maintenance done while he waited for Sam to sleep it off.

Then he returned for Sam. Dean needed to get his shoulder right under Sam’s arm to even get him out of the car. The fresh air definitely revived Sam a little as he managed to keep his feet under him while Dean manoeuvred them into the room. Sam collapsed onto the far bed when Dean let him. He didn’t seem capable of moving any further.

Dean locked the door and set about salting the windows and the door. Sam still had made no move to remove his clothes or shoes and the faintest snore issued from his mouth. Dean shrugged out of his overshirt and kicked off his own boots. The room was hotter than he liked, really, but it would help Sam. Dean started by pulling off Sam’s socks and boots. He could feel the heat rising off Sam as he leaned over to loosen his shirt. Dean eased Sam out of his top shirt, leaving him in his t-shirt. He contemplated leaving Sam in that until he saw the sharp line Sam’s belt was cutting into his stomach. He sighed and leaned forward to undo Sam’s jeans. He’d done this when Sam was a kid too many times to count. Sam would fall asleep in the back of the car, Dad would carry him into a room and Dean would undress him. Of course, Sam didn’t weigh a ton then.

Sam seemed to come around enough to lift his hips as Dean eased his jeans down. It was still a struggle to pull the covers from underneath him and tuck him in. There was a point as Dean found himself smoothing the sheet down Sam’s back when he just wanted to belch or fart or drink a beer just to reassert his masculinity. He could mock Sam later in revenge for making him feel like this.

With that decided, Dean put the TV on low and pulled the first of the weapons from the bag. A thoroughly cleaned weapon is a weapon that never jams. His dad had driven that into his skull often enough. Dean settled down to wait.

 

There was a moaning sound at the edge of his hearing. Dean opened his eyes slowly before realising that the noise was coming from Sam. He spent a moment being glad that he hadn’t woken himself with his own nightmares before realising that Sam making noises like that was definitely not a good thing. Dean shoved the covers down quickly and crossed to the other bed. Sam had managed to dislodge all his sheets and was now lying on his stomach, knees splayed wide and his head tossing on the pillow. Automatically, Dean brought his hand down to still Sam’s head.

Sam tensed. He seemed to sniff Dean’s hand and then he relaxed. Sam’s hair was soaked with sweat like he’d been running laps and his sheets weren’t much better off. The fever would never go down if he managed to catch a cold on top of everything. Sam seemed calmer at least – no more moans or groans. Instead his body began to curl around where Dean was standing at the edge of the bed. Dean brought his hand down onto Sam’s back. His t-shirt was drenched too.

It was too early for this kind of thing. Dean stood up and ran his hands over his face. In some ways, it was like the days before Sam had entered high school, when Sam still trusted him. Dad had let Dean deal with sick Sam more than Dean was really comfortable remembering. He knew he could still tease Sam when he was a little better but, at the moment, he had to help him.

“C’mon, tiger,” Dean muttered as he pulled Sam upright. Sam grumbled but obeyed. He still didn’t seem entirely aware – his eyes were open but looked clouded, unfocused. Dean tugged off his t-shirt and tossed it onto the bed. He thought the better of continuing to undress Sam and leaned down to help Sam stumble across to his bed. Sam collapsed back against the pillows. Dean hurried to the bathroom and dampened a washcloth. He cleaned the worst of the sweat off Sam’s face and neck, more perfunctory over his chest. “Just don’t want you stinking up my bed.”

Dean was a little worried by the way Sam meekly submitted to the washing – as a kid Sam had always hated this, even when he was unconscious. He used to fight back, hitting at Dean with arms as weak as noodles. Dean tossed the cloth onto Sam’s bed when he was done. Now he had a problem. The chair looked really uncomfortable. Dean looked at the door. He could stretch out fairly well on the back seat of the car but that would mean leaving Sam alone.

Dean shoved Sam’s limbs over and climbed into bed. He hoped to hell he woke up before Sam. There was no way he would live this down if Sam worked out what had happened. And it would just make him even more likely to catch whatever was wrong with Sam.

 

Things looked up in the morning. Sam was sleeping more calmly now. The flush of fever had gone from his cheeks and he lay still. Dean wondered if he’d be fine. Food was starting to become a pressing issue and Sam was going to need something to build up his energy after being sick. Dean hesitated for a long moment before scribbling a note, sticking it on the nightstand in front of Sam’s face and heading out. He felt quite justified in taking the cash from Sam’s billfold too. They might be here a while. He didn’t want to push the luck of their current credit card too far. And half the stuff was for Sam anyway.

The motel met a strip mall at the intersection and it was a nice day. Not too hot, not too cold. Dean was glad to be outside again. He breathed deeply and walked along the front of the motel. He hoped there was some kind of grocery store in the line of stores. He hated to admit it, but he’d been focused on Sam when they pulled in.

The walk cleared his head. The muzziness of a night spent waking up to check on Sam was swept away by the fresh air. And he was in luck. The mall had a drugstore. He’d get some chips and some of that healthy drink stuff for Sam and be just peachy. The door dinged loudly as he went in. He nodded to the cashier as he picked up a basket to wander the aisles. He always felt weirdly out of place in these fluorescent, plastic places: the muzak in the background, the soft scuff of other shoppers’ feet on the linoleum. It was a normal, ordinary life he had no part in. He tumbled a couple of bags of chips into the basket and was wondering which flavour of energy drink to get when there was a scream from the front of the store.

Dean dropped his basket and made his way to the end of the aisle, hand on the gun in his waistband. He dropped his shirts over it again when he realised that the cashier had screamed at the tall naked man currently standing in the doorway, the automatic door swooshing to and fro behind him.

Then the penny dropped.

Shit. It was Sam. He was naked and he was here and he looked totally out of it. Dean whipped his jacket off and tried to wrap it around Sam’s… middle. Yup. He was not feeling up his brother’s junk in the middle of a drugstore at ten in the morning. No sirree.

The jacket draped around Sam’s thighs quite effectively but it was still really apparent he was stark naked. Dean wondered if he could get away with pretending that he didn’t know Sam at all and was just helping out the pretty cashier. That idea was pretty much blown out of the water when Sam stepped closer and ran his nose over Dean’s hair. He was…

“Dude. Why are you nuzzling me?” Dean started to hustle them out of the door.

Sam jerked upright and looked at him in panic. The soft lack of focus that had smothered his eyes was replaced by all out fear. “What? Where am I?” Sam took over holding the jacket around his waist. “Why am I naked, Dean?”

Dean shrugged and Sam blushed brightly. Dean knew Sam was blushing brightly because the blush extended to the nipples on Sam’s exposed, defined chest. The cashier had stopped screaming at least and was now watching the scene with way too much attention.

It was time to get going. Dean tugged a protesting Sam back to the motel and ordered him to get dressed. They couldn’t stay here any longer. On the other hand, maybe no one would recognise Sam with his clothes on and he might just escape that indecent exposure rap.

 

Their escape from the motel was without incident and then they were back on the road again. Sam had pretty much exhausted all his energy with their rapid departure and was asleep against the car window. Dean knew he’d have weird marks on his face from the glass but couldn’t really bring himself to care. All the same, Dean kept the stereo on low as he headed north.

 

Around mid-afternoon, they started to approach the edges of a fairly large town. Dean wasn’t too keen on taking the car right into the centre but there were a few motels obviously catering to the rent by the hour crowd on the road he was on. He made a rapid decision and pulled in at one that had a diner across the far side of the parking lot.

He had to shake Sam quite hard to get him to rouse. Maybe Dean took a little more pleasure in that than Sam strictly needed to know about. “I need food.”

Sam yawned, enormously, and opened his eyes. Dean found himself recoiling against the car door in shock. His hands groped automatically for his gun. Sam’s eyes were a solid glowing yellow.

Dean had the gun cocked and at Sam’s temple before he was even really aware of what he was doing. Sam’s shovels of palms batted at it irritably and the colour faded from his eyes gradually. “Dean? Why are you pointing your gun at my head?”

His heart was nearly beating through his chest. Dean took a moment to check that the safety was on and put the gun on the seat between them. He had to take a deep breath to control the shaking in his hands. “Your eyes were… different. I got spooked.”

Sam looked at him sympathetically. “Maybe you’ve been driving too long. I just couldn’t stay awake.”

“No. It’s okay.” Dean hesitated and then replaced the gun inside his jacket. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with your tattoo from what I saw of it this morning.”

Sam had the grace to look embarrassed. “Why have we stopped?”

“Food. And another night of rest for you, I think.” Dean opened the door and climbed out. The diner looked quiet and Dean hoped that was more about the time of day rather the quality of the food. He could worry about what was happening with Sam after he’d eaten. And, maybe, there’d be pie.

 

Sam seemed to be perfectly normal during the meal. It was afterwards that whatever was affecting him showed up again. The parking lot had a thin scrubby verge of grass bordering it. Sam seemed to see the greenery and get a little worked up. He dashed across the tarmac before Dean could even grab at him then stopped halfway across, looking back at Dean quizzically. His eyes flashed with the yellow again that had Dean reaching for his gun.

Sam made a noise, a sound halfway between a chirp and a purr. A noise that was anything but human. Fear crept up Dean’s spine. He knew something was off with Sam but this was getting ridiculous. He needed to get them into a room and start the barrage of tests and rituals that he knew were in his dad’s journal. Normally it’d be Sam who was driving this but he seemed more interested in the dirty patch of weeds than realising that something just wasn’t right.

Possession was definitely at the top of Dean’s list. On the other hand, Sam wasn’t trying to take over the world. He was like a big, fluffy puppy dog. Dean ran his hands through his hair as Sam fucking gambolled like some innocent little lamb in the grass. He was down on his hands and knees – no doubt getting his jeans filthy – and sniffing a flower of all things. Then he opened his mouth wide and chomped down.

Dean started rushing across the parking lot. He knew Sam’s unnatural love of salad and healthy shit was going to cause problems one day. On the other hand, Sam didn’t seem all that enamoured of the mouthful he was chewing. His nose was scrunched up as he tasted the flower and apparently a few leaves, judging by what was sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Sam spat out the mouthful onto the ground and looked at Dean balefully as came over.

“Not my fault. Also, you just ate a perfectly good chicken sandwich so quit giving me that look.” Dean’s brusque rejoinder seemed to get through to whatever part of Sam was still Sam. Human Sam. An annoyed look crossed Sam’s face in response. “Let’s get into the room.”

Dean turned to walk over to the motel office. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a displaced whoosh of air alerted him to the fact that Sam was on the move. Dean sidestepped rapidly and Sam leapt past him. Sam stumbled forward a few more steps and then turned to glare at Dean, who held up his hands in mock innocence. Sam came as close as he could to Dean and walked almost normally for a few moments until a white butterfly floated past. In an instant, Sam was after it, leaping and running and acting like a cat with a new toy.

There was no way that Dean was ever going to let Sam live this down. He fumbled for his mobile phone. This deserved to be preserved for posterity. Bobby would love to see this. Dean wondered if it would be cruel to get Sam one of those cat toys on a stick. The ones you dangled in front of the animal and then jerked away. Then he remembered that, oh yeah, he was thinking about his grown brother. Sam wasn’t a pet. Sam was out of his mind.

It was as if the thought had gotten through to Sam who shuddered to a halt and stood stiffly upright. Dean trotted across the lot to catch up to him.

“Butterfly chasing? That’s a new look for you,” Dean joked.

Sam looked at him, this time in fear. “It happened again, didn’t it? Like with the no clothes thing.”

Dean nodded.

Sam was panicked now. “I can’t remember it, Dean. I remember stepping out of the diner and then I’m over here and my knees are wet and my mouth tastes of dirt.”

That was enough. Dean raised his hand and patted Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sammy. It’s weird, sure enough, but we Winchesters can deal with weird.”

 

Sam didn’t really look reassured. He was still worried, pacing in front of the twin beds after they’d done every test they could think of. Dean had made Sam change his clothes after the holy water, the silver knife, the salt, the goofer dust and a few other herbs and spices had decorated his clothing. “Bobby?”

“I’ll call him,” Dean said. He guessed they needed all the help they could get on this one. “Maybe it’s only detectable when you’re all back to nature.”

Sam nodded. He pulled the laptop from his bag and switched it on. He was obviously going to work the research from their end. Then he yelled in pain.

Dean shot off the bed he’d been lounging on. “What? What is it?”

Sam had his hand across his mouth so his reply was rather muffled. “I bit myself.”

“Let me see.” There was no room for argument in Dean’s voice.

Sam reluctantly removed his hand. There was a cut in his lip, shallow but bleeding heavily. Sam opened his mouth slowly to reveal his teeth. Dean had to suck in a shocked gasp. Sam’s usually even teeth had taken on a more sinister cast. They were definitely more pointed than the last time he’d looked. Dean raised his hand and ran his index finger over the edge of one. He jerked his hand back. A line of blood marked the pad. Sam’s new teeth were razor sharp.

“Son of a bitch. So I’m guessing you’re not a vegetarian then?” Dean hazarded. Sam’s nostrils flared as he sucked in deep breaths to calm himself. Then he pushed past Dean to the tiny bathroom to wash his wound. Dean stared at his finger for a moment and then went to grab his phone. Bobby. He needed to call Bobby as soon as possible.

Bobby muttered his usual imprecations as he took all the information Dean could give him. He paused too at the mention of Sam’s yellow eyes. “Like a cat… Or was it like him? Azazel?”

“Different from both. There’s no variation. Like the flat black of demons but yellow. No white bit. And he glows. It’s more gold I suppose.” Dean wished he’d taken the time to stare deep into Sam’s eyes rather than just freak out. Dean frowned and shook his head. Sam finally came out of the bathroom and leaned against the frame.

Bobby grunted on the other end of the line. Dean knew what that meant. “You don’t know what this is, do you?”

“I’m thinking curse. But it could be anything.” Dean could hear Bobby shuffling papers aside. “I’ll call you when I’ve got something.”

Dean finished up the call and turned to look more directly at Sam who was firmly keeping his mouth shut. “You hear that?”

Sam nodded. Dean quirked an eyebrow. “So does this mean you’re not gonna open your mouth at all?”

Sam looked like he was going to speak but instead he scowled at Dean, full on eyebrow scrunch and everything.

“Something good had to come out of this.”

 

Sam pounded away at his laptop while Dean flipped through books. They ordered pizza rather than risk leaving the room and took a break for some TV. They each had a bed, legs out in front of them and pillows piled behind their backs. Dean was hoping Bobby had more luck than they were having. Sam methodically ate his meat feast, concentrating hard on dealing with his new sharp pointy teeth. The silence that hung between them was sort of awkward. It felt odd to not have Sam criticising the menu choices or demanding some kind of vegetable. Dean had to twist open another beer. He offered one to Sam.

When Sam’s hand didn’t immediately grab at the bottle, Dean looked over. Sam was no longer innocently eating his pizza. Instead he was now hunched over the box in his lap, scooping the toppings into his mouth. Dean jumped. “A bit of warning before you go all Animal Planet might be good here.”

Instead of replying, Sam looked up at him blankly. A flicker, a glow, yellow, gold, passed across his eyes before he turned back to the pizza. Dean found his appetite had gone and he sat back and sipped from the bottle. He tried not to watch Sam as he scoffed the rest of the food but it was hard. The noises Sam made were coarse and guttural and it was odd to see his normally strait-laced brother just Hulk out like this. Sam finished his own meal and then looked across to Dean’s uneaten slices.

“Be my guest, dude. I really don’t want to get in the way of you and food at the moment.” Dean wondered how much Sam was capable of understanding. Sam didn’t stretch across the gap between the beds like he would normally. Instead he slithered off his bed and scampered across the floor. He crouched at the bottom of Dean’s bed and hesitated for a moment before pouncing forward. He landed between Dean’s hastily spread legs. “This is possibly the weirdest thing you’ve ever done. And I remember you as a teenager.”

Sam ignored him, instead happily lowered his hands and face to the open box beside Dean. Dean had to wince when Sam’s elbow came perilously close to taking out one of his kidneys. Sam seemed unable to control himself, flailing wildly as he finished off Dean’s dinner. Dean took another deep swallow of beer and tried to shuffle out from under Sam. Instead, Sam tensed, glancing up at Dean. His newly sharp teeth were smeared with tomato and looked quite bloodthirsty. Dean shuddered. Too much reminded him of Sam’s other habits here.

It went against every ingrained habit but Dean held up his hands to show he meant no harm. “Just putting my empty down,” he told Sam, reaching over slowly to place the bottle on the already crowded nightstand. Sam watched the movement fiercely, not relaxing until Dean had returned his hand to beside him on the bed. “All done.”

It was then that Sam leaned forward, breath hot and garlic against Dean’s neck. Sam rubbed his hair against Dean’s cheek and Dean hesitantly lifted his hand to pat Sam’s shoulder. Sam tilted his head up, a look of sheer mischief on his face. He brought his face closer to Dean. Dean couldn’t shift back, trapped between Sam and his own pile of pillows. Sam bumped his nose against Dean’s then darted his tongue out and swiped it down Dean’s cheek. The next lick still caught Dean by surprise, running across the seam of Dean’s mouth. Sam seemed to like the taste there because the next sweep of his tongue crossed Dean’s lips again.

Then Sam froze. He shifted back quickly. Dean realised that normal Sam (and when was Sam ever normal?) was back in charge. “Hey there, kitty cat.”

Sam looked confused. He lifted one sauce smeared hand up. “Dean? Did I just lick you?”

“Yup.” Dean didn’t let on how freaked out this made him and instead looked smug. He had so much material to make Sam’s life hell for the next few months that he could pretend to be all casual about it. “You seemed to like my taste. Or maybe it was the taste of my beer.”

Sam groaned and shifted to sit on the side of the bed. Dean gratefully stood up, stretched and headed towards the bathroom.

“I’m going to go get ready for bed. You know. Unless you want to come lick me clean.” Dean slammed the door behind him in the face of Sam’s shout of outrage. He leaned back against the door and pressed a hand to the bulge in his jeans. Dean was used to popping wood at inappropriate moments. It’d been a while since he’d gotten laid and Sam was hot and holding him down and fucking licking him.

And his brother, for fuck’s sake. This- this was not good. At all.

 

Dean woke in the middle of the night aware of a hot, heavy weight holding him down. Sam had obviously decided that he no longer wanted to be in his own bed. His head was pressed into Dean’s hip, his huge arm lay across Dean’s stomach and the rest of his body seemed curled around Dean’s legs. Dean wondered how the position could be a) comfortable and b) able to fit onto the bed.

Sam snuggled closer. He must be awake as he was not making his usual soft snores. Dean brought his hand down and shoved at Sam’s head. Sam looked up at him. His eyes were yellow in the moonlight. Shit.

Panic began to swamp Dean. How could he control Sam? He really didn’t want to chain him up but that might be the only solution here. Sam brought his mouth over the sharpness of Dean’s hipbone, licking at the skin. Dean shivered – his t-shirt had either ridden up or been pushed up by Sam. His boxers were also riding low. Sam licked him again, catching the waistband. Dean had always kinda thought that movement was a prelude to a blow job. And that was definitely not something he wanted from Sam. Although the notion was now in his head and he felt his dick twitch. Sam seemed to sense the slight movement and brought his head closer to Dean’s junk. Dean tried pushing at his head again but Sam didn’t take too kindly to this. His teeth flashed.

Fuck. They looked sharp.

And now they were close to Dean’s most precious and important body part. Sam’s big hands drew down Dean’s boxers and Sam’s soft, moist tongue nipped out to brush against the coarse hair at the base of his dick. Dean was too focused on the teeth to really relax and enjoy the situation. And the fact it was his brother. His too tall, ginormous pain-in-the-ass little brother.

He really shouldn’t think about Sam and ass.

Sam’s tongue seemed to enjoy tracing around the softer skin of Dean’s balls. Dean forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle. He didn’t want to do anything to upset Sam, not when he wasn’t completely in control of himself. Sam made a small noise that Dean could only identify as happy and bent to his task once more. Eventually Sam seemed to settle there, licks becoming fewer and he started making the soft noises Dean associated with sleep.

There was no way Dean was going to be able to move Sam – he was just too heavy – so he gave in and shut his eyes. Luckily the threat of Sam’s sharp pointy teeth had meant no uncomfortable erections to explain away.

 

He must have managed to get off to sleep at some point because Dean was rudely awakened the next morning by Sam’s shriek. Yup. Full-on girlie shriek.

Dean rolled over, glad to be able to do it. Sam must not have been long in getting up though – the sheets were still warm. “Sammy?”

Sam flew through the door of the bathroom. He had his hands plastered to the front of his head. “Dean. I…” Sam’s eyes were panicked and he seemed to clamp down on his head because he let out a small, hurt sound before bringing his hands in front of his eyes. His eyes, which were thankfully back to their normal colour, widened even further.

This situation had already gone beyond funny and was rapidly approaching panic stations. Dean couldn’t see what Sam was looking at so he clambered out of bed and came over, lazily scratching at his stomach. Sam’s saliva had left it a little itchy. One of Sam’s hands was thrust in his face as he came close.

“Those are not your fingernails,” Dean said, taking in the pointed, bone coloured claws that had replaced Sam’s prissy neatly trimmed fingernails. Dean poked at one. Yup, sharp.

Miserable beyond words, Sam nodded. Dean realised that was not the only thing that had changed overnight. From the sleep-tousled tangle of Sam’s overlong hair, Dean could see two small curls of horn. “When I said you were horny this is not what I meant,” he said, reaching up to touch them. At least they weren’t sharp and out to cause him pain. He could feel small ridges as he ran his fingers up the nearest one.

Sam tilted his head into the movement. Then he froze. “Dean. What does this mean?” He almost seemed to think that Dean would have all the answers like he had in the past.

“Bobby said a curse, probably.” Dean stroked his fingers along the horn again and Sam instinctively responded, hunching slightly to encourage the movement. “We look for ways to reverse it. Why you might have been cursed. And in the meantime, until we have any better answers, I guess you’re going to have to wear a hat.”

Sam jerked upright and glared at Dean. “Research! We need to research!”

“But I’m hungry, Sammy.” Dean grinned. “And at least I’m not going to be embarrassed by your hair in public.”

Sam twisted his mouth in that all too familiar expression that let Dean know that his barb had hit home. He laughed, unconvincingly, but enough to make Sam feel a little better about the fact that his inconvenient problem was getting worse.

 

The diner across the parking lot was a lot busier in the morning. There were a few people Dean reckoned had stayed in the motel and a few truckers. Not the most peaceable lot. The noise of the diner was reassuring. It meant that the conversation Sam looked ready to have was going to be hidden by the other people’s chatter.

Experienced in all kinds of delaying tactics, Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to start in on him right away. Instead he dragged the menu towards him and gave it his full attention. Sam had more trouble picking up his menu. Instead he used the palm of his hand to drag it across the table top and bent over to read it. The ball cap that Dean had dug out of the Impala’s trunk wasn’t exactly too clean but it fit in relatively well with the people around them. If Dean looked closely, he could see the lumps of the horns underneath the cloth.

Sam hid his hands under the table when the waitress came over. “Hi, my name’s Cheryl!” She was entirely too perky for Sam, who nodded in greeting as she filled his cup from the pot of coffee in her hand. But then she took an extra long time to stretch over Dean and fill his coffee cup. Dean had a real good view of the red lacy bra that contained more than a handful under her loose uniform top.

“Hello there, Cheryl. Fine morning out there.” Dean knew the level of smile to give. The one that was bright enough to be charming but not too much with the teeth to be smarmy. Cheryl melted under the attention.

“Sure is. Get you anything else, sir?” The last was said with just enough salaciousness that Dean knew he could just about get away with a blow job in the restroom. Maybe that would take care of his inconvenient problem.

Sam’s leg knocked against his knee under the table. “I’ll have the house special, but no mushrooms, beans or tomato. Extra sausage.” Sam sounded pissed.

Dean ignored him and smiled again. He might even have fluttered his eyelashes a little. “Pancakes for me. I like ‘em sweet.”

He swore he could almost hear the sound of Cheryl’s no doubt matching red panties hitting the floor. He loved girls who wore red underwear.

Sam kicked him this time and his attention shifted. Sam was glaring at him and Cheryl. His eyes hadn’t changed but he was definitely starting to edge towards the animal end of the spectrum. “And some OJ?” Dean asked.

Cheryl nodded, unhappy that Dean’s attention had shifted, and flipped her order pad shut. She grabbed the coffee pot and headed off. Dean returned Sam’s glare. “C’mon, Sam. She was just primed and ready to go.”

“I know where I woke up this morning.” Sam’s voice was low and threatening. “I don’t know what I was doing there but I woke up with my nose buried in your balls and I was fucking nuzzling and licking them before I realised what I was doing. I just about swallowed half a bottle of mouthwash to get rid of the taste.”

“You afraid of a little manly musk?” Dean teased, trying to hide his discomfort.

“I think I’m afraid of why I’m enjoying it a little too much.” Sam paused but cut in before Dean could open his mouth. “And no gay jokes. Why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sam, but you are a little taller and a little heavier than me. And you have those teeth that are just waiting to tear me to pieces. So forgive me if I don’t exactly want to rile you up while you’re under this curse.” Dean kept his voice low.

Sam looked ready to argue when Cheryl came back with their breakfasts. Sam’s plate was piled high with meat. Dean felt a little jealous. He could probably snake a piece of bacon though. He liked pancakes with bacon and syrup. Cheryl seemed to be just as keen to come back as well. She pouted prettily as she asked if everything was alright.

Dean knew he just had to even hint at the restroom and he was golden. As he leaned forward, he became aware of a noise coming from Sam. It wasn’t a happy noise. It wasn’t a noise that people should make. Instead it was definitely a growl. Dean groaned under his breath. “Everything is just peachy.”

Seeming happier when Cheryl moved away, Sam dug into the heaped plate with his fork and shoving the food into his mouth. His happy noises were also a little on the uncomfortable side. Dean thought that the pleasured groans that reached his ears were a little too reminiscent of Sam’s sex noises to make him completely able to enjoy his pancakes. His foray for bacon was rudely interrupted by the slap of Sam’s hand too.

As luck would have it, Cheryl was manning the checkout on the way out of the door. She gave the lean and purr one more try. Sam took a little more direct action, this time. He plastered himself against Dean, slinging his arm around tightly as Dean accepted their change. Cheryl looked confused. She shook her head and headed back to do another round with the coffee pot.

Her confusion was matched, indeed exceeded, by Dean’s. He waited until they were outside. “The hell, Sam?”

Sam shrugged. “I didn’t like her touching you. Not at all.” Sam seemed to be staring off into the distance.

“It’s never bothered you in the past,” Dean retorted. He felt a little ignored when Sam started striding across the buckled lot towards their room. He had to trot to keep up. “What’s the hurry?”

“This thing. It’s becoming more insistent. I felt like I owned you in there, Dean. I wanted to rip her eyes out for even looking at you like that.” Sam pushed the door open. “Also, the meat thing.”

“Nothing wrong with the meat thing. I like the meat thing. You should totally have the meat thing all the time,” Dean muttered under his breath.

Sam shoved the door shut and pushed Dean up against the wall next to it. “I wanted it raw, Dean. Raw and bloody.” Sam’s voice was low and dark and Dean could feel him struggling to contain himself. “I wanted blood pouring down my throat. You know what I went through to get rid of that particular habit.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say. He could see how Sam felt. He was terrified that Sam was going to give in to the blood and the power again. The next time he might have to kill Sam and that stung him more than anything else. “You won’t, Sam. We’ll solve this curse. Bobby’ll find something.”

Sam took a deep breath and stepped back. It looked like he wanted to lunge at Dean again and Dean wasn’t sure if it was to eat him or to devour him in some other way. “Shit. I’m going for a shower.”

 

Bobby called after a day of fruitless searching. Dean had started in on the last few bottles of beer from the cooler when he called and was feeling less mellow than he should. Sam had flicked into animal mode a couple of times over the day, once when eating, which resulted in Dean having to ask for a change of sheets from housekeeping. The other time he had just slid to the floor and wrapped himself around Dean’s legs.

Dean had kept on doggedly researching. At least his toes had been warm.

“Got anything?” Dean asked when he answered the phone.

“Nothing yet. You boys still doing okay?” Bobby’s voice was kind. It didn’t quite sit right.

“Sammy’s growing horns. Like proper antlers,” Dean told him.

Sam took the phone from Dean. “It’s weird, Bobby. I keep waking up in the oddest places. Have you tried…” Dean ignored Sam as he listed off what sounded like the entire contents of Bobby’s library.

 

Sam finished up the call about a half hour later. “Bobby’s got some leads.”

“Good. And I’m out of beer. Going to head out and pick up some burgers and some more beer. You wanna come?” Dean hoped the way that he was already heading to the door was a large enough hint.

Sam shook his head. “I should do some more reading. Make sure the door is locked. We don’t want me getting out or anything.”

Dean nodded. He wasn’t away more than twenty minutes but he could tell by the scratching on the door that Sam was having another incident. He clicked the lock open and shut the door behind him.

Sam was naked. That was not new.

Sam launched himself at Dean, eyes wide and golden yellow. His claws were outstretched but he just used them to rip at Dean’s overshirt. Over Sam’s flailing arms, Dean could see the ripped pile of Sam’s clothing. Sam seemed to be growling under his breath. Then he leaned forward and pulled his tongue up Dean’s neck and across his cheek. This seemed to distract Sam from the anxious clawing for a moment, because he pressed forward, mouth busy across Dean’s face and neck and hair.

Dean could feel the frantic pounding of Sam’s heart where their chests were pressed together. Dean brought his arms up, one now free of any shirt and cautiously wrapped them around Sam.

“Shhh,” he tried, soothingly. “I’ll not leave you alone again.”

Sam seemed to respond, even though it didn’t look like he understood the words. He stopped his frantic tasting and seemed to breathe more easily. He tucked himself along Dean’s side, making a low rumbling noise that Dean pretty much recognised as purring. “Shit, Sam. What’re we going to do?” Dean asked, knowing he’d not get an answer.

They stood together at the door for a long while until Dean shivered in the draft. “C’mon, Sam. Don’t want you getting sick again.” Sam allowed Dean to lead him to the bed. Dean pushed back the blankets and Sam obediently lay down. Dean’s phone rang again and he pulled it out. It was Bobby.

Dean covered Sam with the blankets with one hand, then lay down beside him. “Tell me you got some good news.”

“Leads. I got leads on what might be going on with Sam. But I need your help. There’s been a hunter friend of mine killed by some nasty lake monsters. You boys are the nearest. Those beasties have already killed a half dozen of the townsfolk.” The hint was clear.

Dean looked down at Sam who was starting to shift towards him. “I just don’t know how we’ll cope with Sam like this. He’s all normal one minute and then – poof – the horny beast is let loose.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask if there was another option. We just gotta stop those deaths.” Bobby’s voice was implacable.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded even though Bobby couldn’t see him. “Send us the co-ordinates and we’ll head there in the morning. First thing.”

Bobby let him go with the promise of help and then Dean was able to shift his attention back to Sam. Sam who was now inching towards him with more determination. Dean could see Sam’s hands creeping back towards his shirt. “If I get naked, can we eat?”

It was yet another rhetorical question because Sam’s claws began working at Dean’s overshirt again. Dean stood up and shrugged it off. Sam hesitated at the movement and then began to climb out from under the covers. His hands stretched out for Dean’s t-shirt so Dean whipped it off too. It wasn’t like they had cash to burn on new clothes. He was relying on this logic when Sam reached out once more for his jeans. Even his boxers had to go.

There was something really weird in just standing in front of his brother letting it all hang free. Dean switched off the main room light and put on a bedside one instead. It made the mood more romantic than anything, but Dean felt better without the harsh light from above. Sam seemed to agree. Dean made a grab for the bags he’d brought back to the room before Sam could grab him again.

Sam’s messy eating hadn’t really improved as he tore into the double burger Dean had picked up for him. Dean admitted that it didn’t take him long to finish off his burger really either. Dean stopped now and again to take a drink from his beer but Sam was single-minded. Dean wiped off Sam’s hands and mouth afterwards, the memories hitting strongly once again. Sam had been five or six, Dean had been around ten and he’d done this when his dad left for a hunt and he’d felt so grown up and responsible. Sam had tried to claim he could do this on his own but Dean had insisted. This time there was less arguing.

Sam was happy when Dean had finished. He lay back, replete. Dean wondered if he could get away with replacing his boxers now. He had barely moved towards them when Sam’s hands wrapped around his waist. He was drawn back against Sam’s body. The edges of Sam’s claws were threatening against his skin.

Sam seemed content to have Dean lying beside him. He wrapped his legs around Dean keeping him there. “Trust you to cuddle,” Dean said.

Sam started to nuzzle him more determinedly then. His hips were shifting against Dean’s side now and he moved about until Dean could feel the hard solid length of Sam’s cock pressing against him. Dean was suddenly terrified. He wanted to run, lock the bathroom door and leave Sam here to rut away against the sheets alone. The grip of Sam’s arms and legs was all that was keeping him here. He daren’t leave Sam alone. Sam might hurt someone else but, more importantly, Sam might hurt himself.

Dean held himself stiff as Sam rolled to pin him to the bed. Sam’s mouth was hot against his neck as he rolled his hips instinctively, his dick seeking out the cut of Dean’s groin. The pressure was enough to start a reaction in Dean. He could feel the slow burn of arousal and his dick more than responded to the warm thrusts. Dean tried to stop his hips lifting to meet Sam but he found it impossible. He pressed himself up, a groan falling from his lips. Dean turned his face and dropped a kiss on Sam’s bowed head. It was nothing more than a gentle brush of lips but Dean was aware of the lines he was crossing.

Sam reacted by moving even closer to Dean, cocks now rubbing against each other. Dean had done this before, only a couple of times, and he’d been the one on top, in control. Here Sam was setting the pace, holding Dean down. Dean’s body was finding it overwhelming; Dean’s mind was torn between giving in and screaming at him. There was also a tinge of fear at Sam’s strength, at the razor sharp teeth and the claws that had sliced through his tough clothing.

His life had always been a little fucked up. This was another fuck up he hoped he’d be able to recover from.

Sam was obviously nearing completion. He was thrusting harder, the way smoothed by the pre-come oozing over Dean’s stomach. The movement was driving Dean mad. He knew he was panting and meeting every thrust of Sam’s with a matching, complimentary one of his own. The wet heat of Sam’s mouth finally met Dean’s throat and all it took was for the brush of teeth for Dean to finally lose control. Sam came moments after, every muscle taut, veins standing proud. He collapsed onto Dean, breathing heavily before rolling over onto the side of the bed and lying flat.

Sam looked at Dean. His eyes weren’t yellow anymore but Dean wasn’t sure whether that meant that the Sam he had rubbed one out with was his Sam or not. Sweat trickled across Sam’s chest, making his skin shine in the soft light. Dean rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Another shower was in order. Sam was asleep when he came out.

 

The horns were longer in the morning, rising free from Sam’s hair. His eyes were yellow most of the time and most of the time he seemed to want to follow Dean about. Dean was not so sure about this. There might have been a note of urgency during his next phone call to Bobby.

Of course Bobby didn’t answer.

“Heading out to the job now. Just keep working on the Sam thing. It’s getting worse.” The terse message couldn’t hope to contain all the panic and worry and guilt coursing through Dean. He slammed their things into the Impala, lured Sam into it with food and then locked the door behind him. Sam watched Dean intently as Dean crossed to the driver’s side as quickly as he could.

The front bench was normally pretty uncomfortable for any length of time when Sam was acting normally. After a few hours of staring out the window (Dean was worried that if he opened the window, Sam would stick his head out and howl into the breeze), Sam curled up, long limbs folded like a pretzel.

Dean just knew that Sam’s back would ache like a motherfucker when he woke up. Or maybe this curse was going to prevent that. The horns had scraped the roof of the car a few times too but Dean was happy to see that they hadn’t caused any damage. His life! He was happy that the horns growing out of his brother’s head – his brother who seemed to be determined to use him as some demented snuggling machine – hadn’t ripped the lining in the top of the car.

Dean shoved the music on and concentrated on running the lyrics through his head.

Dean called Bobby again when he stopped for gas. Sam had woken up but seemed happy enough to stay in the car as long as he could see Dean. Dean just leaned back against the trunk and hoped Bobby was home.

“Dean – I got it.” Bobby sounded jubilant and a little exhausted.

Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. “How do I get Sam back to normal?”

“It’s not quite that simple. It’s a fairy curse.” Bobby was more disgusted now.

“What like little wings, wands, fluffy sparkly dust?” Dean found it funny. “You telling me Sam’s been turned into a damn fairy.”

“Be serious. It’s old school. Sidhe.” Bobby’s despair at Dean came through the phone clearly.

“Shee? That sounds even worse.” Dean could feel all the stress of the last few days cracking. He let out a giggle.

“Son, listen to me. This is pretty damn bad. This sidhe stuff is nasty, old-school, old world. There’s only a couple of things that can remove a fairy curse. I’m not sure what Sam needs,” Bobby told him. “We can’t quite feed him iron filings, for example.”

Dean cursed quite solidly for a minute. Bobby seemed to be agreeing on his end of the call. “So what do I do?”

Bobby was silent for a moment. “What you always do,” he said, eventually. “Keep an eye on Sam, research and go save those people.”

Bobby let him off with a few more instructions (only new agers spelled fairy as faerie apparently) and a warning about the tricky nature of lake beasts. Dean leaned against the trunk for another minute after the call was over. He wished, in a lot of ways, that this had happened to him. He had no doubt that Sam would be able to solve this curse before it got any worse or lasted any longer. Sam would have worked this out before anything embarrassing happened.

Although he probably would have taken great delight in mocking Dean about it.

 

They reached the lake shore before nightfall. Dean made sure to park away from the touristy areas and in a more deserted part of the area before he let Sam out of the car. Sam seemed really happy to be out in the fresh air, returning to his gambolling ways, chasing small furry creatures into the bushes. At least the small furry creatures were too fast for him to catch. Dean wasn’t too sure that he wanted raw rabbit for his supper.

Most of the attacks took place in the early evening: people out walking dogs, late fishermen, kids parking up. Dean grabbed a flashlight and his preferred sawn off from the hidden compartment while Sam was getting all back to nature. He shrugged on his jacket and hid the gun in the inside pocket. Mindful of Bobby’s warning, Dean also tucked a revolver inside his waistband. He wondered about handing Sam a gun but ruefully thought that Sam wouldn’t really know what to do.

Sam was the next problem. Dean couldn’t leave him in the car like an inconvenient dog. Sam was agitated when Dean wasn’t within sight. Even though he was now, apparently, rolling in the grass, he still kept pausing and checking to see Dean was still there. So Sam had to come too.

Dean locked up the car and headed out. “C’mon, Sam. Let’s go for a walk.”

 

Dean was about to give up. They’d be wandering the shoreline for a few hours and it was definitely dark now. The moon hung low above the evergreens on the far side of the lake, casting a sullen washed out light across the water. Dean had become progressively colder and he was now shivering inside his jacket. Sam didn’t mind the cold. He wasn’t too sure about the dark, though, sticking closer and closer to Dean.

Calling it a night, Dean turned to head back towards the car. Typically, as if it had been waiting for him to give up, a scream resounded through the trees. Sam darted in front of Dean as he turned to head towards the noise, pulling out his shotgun. It didn’t seem too far up ahead. He pounded along the pathway. Sam outpaced him, his long legs and new-found strength propelling him along the packed dirt.

They rounded a corner to see a woman backed up against a tree by a slimy green scaly thing. Sort of half overgrown alligator, half tentacle beast. Sam made a sound of pure fury and sprang the last few yards to force it to the ground. Dean kept his torch on the woman, not on the scuffle. The sounds were horrible enough. Growls and the sound of ripping flesh were coming from that direction. Dean winced at a particularly wet noise.

He turned to the woman who was pale and trembling. “Car?”

The woman took the hint, turned and grabbed her own flashlight and fled up the path. Dean steeled himself and turned his own light onto the fight. There wasn’t much left of the lake monster. Most of it was spread in little gobbets of flesh that decorated the ground and even a few nearby trees. Sam reached down one last time and pulled an organ – Dean thought it was probably the creature’s heart – out through its rib cage with a grunt. Sam squeezed it with his claws and it made a popping sound.

Dean swallowed. Normally he’d salt and burn the body, but it seemed so torn up that there was no real point. He took a stumbling step towards Sam who turned and hissed at him, eyes glowing yellow and mouth smeared with blood. His teeth seemed longer than ever and even his horns were blood stained. Red covered his clothes and Dean knew that no amount of washing would get out that kind of stain.

It was only when he took a stumbling step towards Sam that Dean realised that he was still in danger. Sam jumped at him and Dean flinched back automatically. Sam thrust him to the ground and Dean lay there winded for a moment. He saw the flash of scale out of the corner of his eye and realised that there was another creature. Sam lifted one hand and, almost casually, gauged a hole in the creature’s torso.

Dean scrabbled about on the ground until he found his gun. He swung it to point at the creature before realising there could be others out there. He swung his flashlight around but there appeared to be no more scaly green monsters hauling ass towards them. A high pitched burbling came from Sam’s direction before the normal night time buzz of insects and the odd frog croak resumed. In the near silence, Dean could also make out the heavy panting coming from Sam.

“So,” he asked, conversationally. “Did you just rip out the creature from the Black Lagoon’s lungs?”

 

Sam was twitching on the walk back to the car. He would make odd cut-off growls and suddenly dash in front of Dean for no reason. Sometimes he’d swipe at the blood coating his skin and clothes as if he couldn’t remember where it had come from. They arrived at the car almost before Dean realised where they were. The dashboard light let him see what a bad state Sam was in. Gore literally trickled off his chin. Bright red painted his mouth. His hair was soaked and his clothes were ripped and torn in addition to the staining.

There was a moment when Dean wondered if covering the seat with a blanket would be enough to keep the stains off the leather. Then he shook himself. There was no way he could take Sam to a motel looking like he did. Dean knew he had some stale holy water in the trunk and that would take care of some of the mess.

Sam was still antsy. He was flinching and seemed distressed at the smell of the blood on his clothes. Dean could understand that. There were some rags that were almost clean in the trunk along with the flasks and Dean soaked one of them.

“C’mere, Sam,” he called, voice loud against the silent night. Sam obeyed, surprisingly. Dean lifted his hand with the cloth obviously displayed. Sam started back. “Hey, hey. It’s alright.” Dean kept his voice soft and low and Sam came close once more.

The cloth was pretty bloody by the time Dean had managed to clean off Sam’s face. On the other hand, Sam seemed better. The small shudders that had been running through him had slowed and ceased as Dean had wiped away the gore. Dean had also kept up a running commentary of nonsense in that small, quiet voice. Dean gently undid the buttons on Sam’s shirt to take it off. His jeans were also pretty much a dead loss so it was sensible to unfasten them too and shove them down. Sam was calmer, standing in his boots and boxers. He crowded in close to Dean, sniffing at his hair and running a hand up and down Dean’s back.

When Dean realised he’d pretty much done as much as he could, he pulled the tattered blanket from the backseat and slung it around Sam so he wouldn’t get cold. Dean chucked the clothes into a trash can at the edge of the lot and then climbed into the car. Sam didn’t need any enticing to get in. He folded himself inside, closer to Dean than he would normally sit. Dean instinctively raised his hand to pat at Sam’s hair before he realised what he was doing.

He had to get his brother back and stop treating him like a damn dog. They’d passed a motel not far from the lake and there’d be time for sleep and showers and freaking out there.

 

Dean drifted back to consciousness when Sam’s movements stopped being the odd twitches of sleep and became something more deliberate. Somehow Sam had managed to wrap himself around Dean, totally encircling him. Sam’s arm was a heavy weight across his chest.

Dean tried to heave him off. “Dude, you been eating elephants or something.”

His struggles were in vain. Sam merely tightened his arm and pulled Dean closer. The bunching of the muscles in Sam’s arm sent a thrill down Dean’s spine. There really was no way he could escape without seriously trying. The part of Dean that could still think realised how ridiculous it was that his bondage kink was being addressed by his cursed baby brother.

Dean punched the pillow, hoping to get back to sleep. It was then that he realised what the rhythmic movement of Sam’s hips meant. “Really? C’mon, man,” he whined.

Sam didn’t answer beyond a low mutter and then the shift of hips brushed his hard cock along the valley of Dean’s ass. Dean stiffened but that didn’t deter Sam, whose movements took on a more deliberate tone. Dean could feel the clutch of Sam’s hands tightening before he started struggling again. “Get off!” Dean would deny to his dying day that there was a note of panic there.

Sam shifted – leading to a momentary surge of relief for Dean – before rearranging them. This time Dean was sprawled on his stomach with Sam lying on top of him. Sam’s thrusting became slightly more insistent and Dean realised that Sam was no longer wearing the boxers he had been at the start of the night. The head of Sam’s dick caught every so often on the waistband on Dean’s own shorts. He could feel the wet smears it left behind on the base of his back.

Dean tried to surge up then. He wasn’t going to let Sam carry on along this path. Every time he let Sam do what he wanted, they ended up going further than he had intended. Of course, all that happened was that Sam’s hand clamped onto his neck and forced Dean to the mattress. Dean stopped struggling and remembered that Sam’s hands were different now. Instead of the usual brush of callused fingers and blunt nails, there was the drag of claws.

Dean felt Sam’s breath on his cheek. His brother wasn’t trying to kiss him. Instead Sam’s tongue snaked out and licked along Dean’s cheekbone. From the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam’s face set in a determined expression: Sam was going to see this through. Dean was forcibly reminded of what Sam’s teeth had looked like tearing into the creature earlier. He drew in a deep breath as Sam’s mouth moved down to his shoulder and across his back to the base of his neck. Sam’s tongue drew patterns, feeling rough, catching the hairs along Dean’s hairline.

Suddenly Sam shifted, his tongue leaving a path of fire down Dean’s back. Dean could feel his boxers being peeled away and he felt exposed and uncomfortable. Sam was panting now, forceful breaths falling on the base of Dean’s spine and then lower, over his ass. Sam shifted, one hand spread wide on Dean’s back to stop him moving and the other pushing at one of his cheeks, revealing that tiny, vulnerable pucker. Dean couldn’t protest in time as Sam dropped his head and licked across his hole.

“Fuck!” Dean shouted. He wondered if calling for help – motel walls were thin, despite the fact they were at the end of the row – would result in someone coming to help him or would drive Sam to perhaps react in a more uncontrolled way. Sam already had problems playing nice with others. Sam seemed to have decided that he liked the taste of Dean. He pushed Dean’s legs wide and sealed his mouth over Dean’s hole, running his tongue around and across it. Dean knew he should struggle more, but it was difficult when he could feel the warning prick of claws digging into his back.

Sam seemed to be driven mad by the taste of him. His tongue swiped faster and faster until he forced the tip of it into Dean. Unwilling as he was, Dean found his cock starting to respond, hardening against the sheets. Sam seemed to be unfurling his tongue deeper on each pass and Dean had canted his hips up to allow more access before he was really aware of what he was doing. Dean had eaten his fair share of pussy in his life but none of the girls had ever given any indication that it felt like this. Felt filthy and wrong and yet he couldn’t get enough of Sam’s tongue fucking into him.

Dean became aware of Sam shifting then, bringing his thumb closer to Dean’s entrance. That started a whole other train of thought, especially when one of those new claws dragged across the opening. Dean’s arm flailed out, reaching back, desperate to stop him. If one of those sharp claws made their way inside him, he’d be torn and bloody within seconds.

Dean’s arm dropped off the side of the bed. He couldn’t get enough leverage to reach around and stop Sam. His hand brushed against his duffle.

Dean knew he had lube in the pocket.

If he did this – and the way he was currently shuddering at the feel of Sam’s tongue suggested he might – then it had to be understood that this was only self-protection. And for Sam, of course. He wanted to keep Sam safe and happy. And Sam being “affectionate” towards him was better than seem being more aggressive towards other people. Maybe becoming something that he’d have to hunt. That didn’t bear thinking about. Not again.

Dean let out a deep breath. Then he opened the pocket of the bag and pulled out the half squeezed tube. Sam’s nail – no, get it right – Sam’s claw dragged across the sensitive skin behind his balls and Dean knew he didn’t have time here. He was going to have to man up, so to speak.

He opened the tube, breathing deeply when Sam’s head came up at the snick of the lid and his hand pressed down more firmly on Dean’s back. Dean knew he’d have marks where Sam’s nails were digging in. It was hard to squeeze one handed and Dean knew he was messing up the sheets as he fumbled, pouring the slick liquid across his fingers.

Somewhere Sam seemed to know what was happening. He drew back from Dean, allowing Dean to draw his knees under him and to bring his hand back. Sam’s tongue had relaxed the muscles, opened the way and, with the lube, Dean felt his first finger slip in without much more strain than a slight pull on his shoulder. The second was more troublesome, burning slightly. Dean knew he was panting now. He focused on loosening the muscle further – Sam was going to cause him a lot of pain otherwise. He had just slipped the tip of his third finger in when Sam’s hand returned to his back.

Dean took this as a warning. He looked back at Sam. Sam’s eyes held that unearthly glow, burning with yellow fire. He loomed above Dean, hair hanging in sweaty tendrils around his cheeks, muscles clenching and heaving with the apparent effort to control himself. Dean found his eyes travelling down Sam’s chest, visually caressing each and every ridge of muscle and line of scar.

Finally, he took a deep breath, removed his fingers and reached for Sam’s dick. The angle was awkward and his back muscles were screaming as he used his hand to smear the rest of the slick over Sam’s cock before guiding it towards him. Dean had to turn and drop his arm to the bed. He raised up his hips and hoped Sam took the invitation he was offering.

Dean was glad he’d braced himself as he felt Sam push into him. There was no time allowed for him to adjust. Sam began to rut against him and Dean dug his hands into the sheets and held on tight. Sam seemed focused on holding Dean close to him, hands clutching his hips tightly. Those wicked claws scratched his skin every so often but Dean had stopped finding it dangerous. The brushes were now sending electricity shooting straight to his cock. He was aware that he was making sounds now, whimpers and moans shocked out of him by the force of Sam’s thrusts.

Dean shifted his body again to ease the strain on his back. Sam seemed to read this as an attempt to escape and draped himself forward over Dean’s back. His mouth with those sharp teeth worried at the back of Dean’s neck again and Dean dropped his head submissively. Sam’s hand seized his shoulder and the thrusts sped up. The shift in position seemed to change the angle of Sam’s cock and it brushed across Dean’s prostate. Sam was just rutting as mindlessly as ever and Dean knew he couldn’t be doing it deliberately, but pleasure rocketed through him. Dean felt his orgasm approaching and he cried out unthinkingly as Sam fucked him through it.

Sam became more forceful then, his thrusts shoving Dean up the bed. Dean found himself losing his balance, tumbling to the mattress as Sam followed him down. Sam went rigid for an instant, burying himself deeper than Dean could have thought possible. Dean swore to himself that he could feel the pulses of Sam’s come as they emptied inside of him. Finally Sam relaxed, almost muscle by muscle. He slowly collapsed on top of Dean who could feel him panting still, heart thundering through the skin they had pressed together. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he felt so connected to another person.

It was then that Sam chose to move, pulling his cock free and turning on his side. He grunted at Dean, who lay still, enjoying the ability to breath freely for a moment – Sam was heavy when he was boneless. It wasn’t to last. Sam pulled at his hip, nails slicing a thin line through his skin and Dean rolled onto his side. Sam plastered himself against him, Dean’s back to his chest and wrapped his arms around Dean tightly.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to take this to the other bed?” Dean asked. He wasn’t really expecting an answer. “This bed is basically an enormous wet patch and it’s all your fault.”

Sam yawned in his ear in reply.

“Whatever. Just don’t hog the covers, right.” Dean tugged the blankets over them awkwardly. Having Sam attached to him like this made all movement difficult. He didn’t really want to think about what had happened. Mind blowing orgasms made Dean sleepy and all.

 

Waking the next morning was something of a different story. Dean could feel the dried come itchy on his skin, the scrapes when Sam’s fucking claws had dug in too deeply, the bruises where he’d been held down. These were all superseded by the ache in his ass as he tried to extricate himself from Sam’s arms and make his way to the bathroom. Sam resisted, of course, winding his arms tighter around Dean. He was still too out of it to really resist when Dean wriggled free.

Standing in the shower, Dean let the water pound away the most obvious evidence of the night’s activities. He wished the water could take away the memories too. He’d let his brother fuck him. No matter than Sam was under the influence of whatever was making him do this. Dean had still fucking lubed himself up and offered himself to his brother. His kid brother. The one he’d taught to drive and shoot and to brush his teeth.

Dean slammed his hand into the wall.

The worst bit? The very worst bit? He’d liked it. He’d come without as much as a breath of air on his cock. He’d been writhing on the end of Sam’s cock like a cheap whore and had fucking loved it. He wanted Sam to hold him down again, to shove that ridiculously oversized cock of his deep into him. Dean slammed the wall again as his cock gave a traitorous twitch.

Sam was still sleeping when Dean returned to the room. He shrugged on his clothes are quickly as he could before turning to Sam’s laptop. He had to find out how to reverse this curse quickly.

Sam woke an hour later. He didn’t so much get out of bed as crawl. Literally. He crawled across the floor and ran his cheek over Dean’s knee. Dean found his hand automatically dropping to Sam’s head, brushing back his hair. The horns had grown again. They were curling proudly from the mess of Sam’s hair, smooth and cream coloured.

“Maybe we could get you a really big hat,” Dean muttered. Then he realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back. Sam didn’t seem to care. He also didn’t seem cold. Instead he curled himself up at Dean’s feet, one arm looped around Dean’s leg as if to make sure he didn’t escape. A soft snore drifted up to Dean shortly afterwards. Dean was totally aware of how ridiculous it looked: a grown man (more than grown, if Dean was being truthful) curled up naked on the floor. At his feet.

Dean seemed to be working towards some promising ideas – the iron filings might not work but there were other things Sam could ingest – when he realised that Sam was no longer snoring. He looked down. Sam was looking back at him, eyes oddly soft despite their yellow cast. His hand was running over Dean’s ankle under his jeans, something Dean had not even noticed happening.

Sam reached up and tugged at him. “No, Sam,” Dean scolded. “I’m trying to cure you here.”

Sam made a scolding noise of his own. He became more persistent in pulling at Dean, putting some strength into it. Dean knew he had to go with it or risk another ripped shirt. He shifted off the chair and knelt beside Sam. Sam smiled then, simply happy. He ran his face along Dean’s thigh and then reached to pull Dean completely to the floor.

It hurt a bit when Dean landed on his side. He didn’t really have that long to try and catch his breath when Sam was tugging on him and turning him – manhandling him – into the position he wanted. Dean ended up with his back pressed to Sam’s chest, knees snuggled in close and Sam’s chin on his head.

“Typical. You would want to cuddle. Just… No more funny stuff.” Dean felt a pang of sadness that Sam couldn’t bitch back at him but he relaxed when Sam’s breathing started to drift off into his sleep pattern again. Dean drummed his fingers on the floor. He really should be researching.

His phone rang up there on the table beside the computer. Dean stretched up and used his fingertips to grab it. It was Bobby.

Dean kept his voice quiet. “Hey, Bobby.”

“Dean? You okay, boy?” Dean really didn’t want to answer that one honestly.

“Trying to let Sam sleep,” Dean evaded. “We got those lake monsters, thanks for asking. Please have some news for me.”

Bobby sounded apologetic at the other end. “I think I got it. How far from your original hunt are you?”

“A couple of days. Or an all-night drive.” Dean was already planning the route in his head.

“Start heading back. I’ve got something that should work. A potion and a spell. But you need to be back where it all started. I think you boys – or Sam, anyway – disturbed a fairy ring. You have to find it,” Bobby said.

Dean scrabbled out from Sam’s arms. They could get going straight away. “I know what to look for then. Thanks, Bobby.”

Sam wasn’t too happy at being woken up so abruptly or at having his teddy bear snatched away. He made a low chirp of disapproval when Dean prodded him into clothes.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean spoke even though he knew that there was no way Sam would be able to understand him. It just felt right, natural, to talk to him. Like he would if there was a dog in the house. And there was no way he was going to share that piece of thought with Sam. “I like it when you eat red meat and all. But I guess I’d be breaking every promise I ever made if I let you stay like this.”

Sam stopped what he was doing – holding his arms up for Dean to put a t-shirt over them – and came close. He butted his head against Dean until Dean raised his hand and ran it over his cheek. Dean let himself enjoy it for a moment then pushed Sam away.

“Also. Not so keen on the taking care of your needs side.” Dean was glad Sam didn’t seem to understand what a blush meant. “I like you better when you can talk back and pick up your own dates.”

 

The journey back was uneventful. Dean only let Sam out of the car when they were on deserted side roads and he pulled over for an hour of sleep. All food was either from gas stations or drive-throughs. Sam slept in the car most of the time, which was also cool. There was one sticky moment when Dean woke out of one of his snatched naps to find Sam’s head in his lap and Sam’s hand stroking steadily at his morning wood. Dean had gently disengaged him and taken care of the problem himself by stepping into the woods at the side of the road.

Bobby’s directions were straightforward. Find the fairy ring. Which proved easy enough. Sam almost wanted to be there, hurrying through the forest and darting back to tug at Dean as if he wasn’t moving fast enough. He lay down on the lush green grass in the middle of the fairy ring and rolled onto his back. So that part was easy.

The next was more difficult. Dean crumbled the herb mixture into a bottle of Mountain Dew and shook it gently. He now had to get Sam to drink it all. Dean steeled himself and then came over to kneel by Sam’s head.

“Please be thirsty, Sam,” he begged, as he held out the open bottle. Sam’s claws made a scratching noise on the plastic as he took it but he seemed to fit most of it into his mouth, with only a dribble cascading over his chin. Dean took the bottle when it was empty and tossed it back out of the ring. “Right.”

Sam’s eyes seemed more intensely yellow now, glowing brightly. Dean dug the piece of paper he’d written the words down on out of his pocket and started to read them. The effect on Sam was instantaneous. Sam curled tight into a small ball, his veins standing proud on his arms and neck with the strain. Dean ran his hand over Sam’s back, feeling rough fur under his t-shirt. He knew he couldn’t put off this spell any longer. He kept reading.

The wind picked up then, spinning wildly around the clearing. Dean started to shout the words, more confident as he ran through them again. Storm clouds were gathering rapidly overhead and the first shock of rain startled him. He kept reading. Sam was writhing now, shudders running up and down his body. Lightning split the air. Dean jumped at the ferocity of the responding thunder. He didn’t want to think what the groaning and splitting sounds now surrounding him were. He kept reading.

Sam’s convulsions were coming to a head. His head was tossing back and forth. Dean could see that his clenched teeth were sharp fangs one instant and Sam’s old even teeth the next. Dean knew that this had to be working.

There was a particularly loud splinter and a tree branch whipped across the circle. Dean ducked just in time. It flew over his head. That was the first warning. Smaller branches were caught up in the swirling winds and raked over Dean. He threw himself across Sam, not letting the recitation of the spell halt for an instant, and kept the worst of the wood from hurting Sam.

Sam let out a shriek that was very nearly human and the storm also seemed to cry out. Lightning split the sky one final time and the wind became so strong that it nearly lifted Dean from the ground. Then it stopped, suddenly. By the time Dean had drawn in a long, painful breath, the storm had finished. Sunlight filtered through the trees.

Dean could feel Sam shifting under him, relaxing from his ball. Dean came up onto his hands and knees, then dropped the forest floor, cursing. Sam sat up and seemed to be aware enough to check Dean over. Most of the pain seemed concentrated along Dean’s left side and he risked a glance. A huge branch splinter had penetrated his leather jacket and had made quite an indent into his side. Dean grabbed the end, wincing at the feel of the rough ragged wood against his palm and pulled it free. He lay back sweating after it popped free.

Sam was obviously not quite back to himself. There were still two large prominent horns protruding from his hair and his wide eyes remained yellow. Dean groaned. It hadn’t worked. Then he groaned again as making the sound hurt. Sam was by his side in an instant. He tugged at Dean’s jacket, exposing the wound and the nasty tear in his t-shirt. The blood welled up from the wound.

Kneeling down, Sam brought his face close to examine the wound. He obviously didn’t know what was happening. He licked across it and Dean hissed. Fuck, it hurt. Sam carefully lay down, blanketing Dean’s body with his own, and held him tight. Dean concentrated on breathing. Once he had that under control he could stand up. Then he could get them back to the car. But first, breathing.

The forest was making all the usual bird noises and rustles. Nothing seemed out of place beside him and Sam lying in this clearing. It was quiet and warm under the sun. Dean felt Sam shift against him and grunt. There was a clattering sound and Sam pulled away gently and sat up. Dean turned his head gingerly.

The horns had broken off. They were lying on the ground near Sam’s hand. His non-clawed hand. It was back to normal. Dean looked up at him. His teeth were no longer deadly weapons. And Sam’s eyes were back to being the same mix of brown and green they’d always been. Dean dropped his head back to the ground in relief. He almost cheered when Sam spoke.

“Dean? What happened? Why are you… You’re bleeding!” Sam went from confused to panicked to worrying about Dean all in one short speech.

Dean raised his right hand and gave Sam the thumbs up. “Way to state the obvious, Sammy.” He couldn’t mask the relief in his voice though. “You wouldn’t want to, I don’t know, help me back to the car so I can get some medical attention.”

Sam made an irritated face before scrambling to his feet. “Where are we?”

“In the woods. The car’s thataway.” Dean gestured back towards the road. He tried to push up but before he got too far, Sam was there, helping him to his feet. Dean felt oddly better now he wasn’t flat on his back. “You wanna grab those horns. I think we’re going to need them.”

Sam bent and grabbed the pair of horns, tucking them into his back pocket before sliding his arm around Dean and helping him stumble back to the car.

 

“We can’t go back to the motel we were in before,” Dean told Sam when he had a dressing covering the worst of the wound. “We should head south to the next town.”

Sam opened his mouth, obviously to ask Dean all about it. He always did need everything explained to him before he’d do anything. But the question never came. Sam shut his mouth and brought the horns out of his pocket and weighed them in his hands. Dean leaned back against the bench seat and waited.

Sam eventually nodded and helped Dean turn around to sit properly before closing the door and heading to the driver’s side. He tossed the horns on to the seat between them before starting the car. He even switched the radio on, letting Zepplin fill the silence.

They drove for an hour before Sam pulled into the parking lot of another no name motel. He was still silent as he went into the office to get a room and then pulled the car as near to the door as he could. Dean chafed a little as Sam helped him out of the car like an old lady, but he was glad to be lowered gently to the nearest bed.

Sam busied himself with carrying in their duffels and assembling their medical supplies.

“Sit down, Sam,” Dean ordered. He needed get this wound cleaned out, check there were no more injuries and take some pretty strong pain killers. Maybe with a side of whisky.

Sam sat on the opposite bed, wiping his palms down his thighs. “We should get you a doctor.”

Dean frowned. “How much do you remember?”

Sam looked away. Then he slowly lifted his head and looked Dean straight in the eye. “I don’t know. There was a drugstore? And flowers? Pizza?”

“Yeah. “Dean nodded along. “Anything else?”

“I had teeth, like fangs, and claws. Along with the horns. And I think I was starting to grow fur.” Sam’s voice was more hesitant now. “And I hurt you?”

“You didn’t hurt me. I wouldn’t let you hurt me.” Dean kept his voice strong and even. “You got a little handsy though.”

“I think it was more than a little, Dean.” Sam’s eyes darkened with worry. “I didn’t hurt you?”

Dean shrugged. This conversation was already a little more uncomfortable than he liked. The gesture pulled at his wound and he let out a soft hiss. Sam seemed to take that as a cue to end the conversation and came over to help Dean out of his t-shirt.

It was only later, after the painkillers had finally kicked in, that Dean rolled over to look at Sam again. Maybe the whisky was also helping ease the pain. He knew he’d be fine in a day or two. Sam, however, looked like he was still freaking out. He was folding his clothes out of his duffel.

“Sam? C’mon. I wanna talk to you.” Dean wondered if he sounded as slurred as he felt.

Sam understood him though. He came to stand at the foot of the bed. Dean patted the duvet beside him. “Here.”

Sam sighed and came and placed himself on the edge of Dean’s bed. Dean wasn’t happy with that. He reached out and grabbed Sam, pulling him closer. The move seemed to catch Sam by surprise and he toppled over, catching himself before he could crush Dean. Dean kept his hand wrapped tight in Sam’s button down. He was back to wearing layers even though the room was toasty hot.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Dean brought his forehead up to meet Sam’s. He could feel his eyes going a bit crossed as he tried to maintain focus. “You would never hurt me. You couldn’t. Except when you’re being all demony. And you weren’t.” Dean had to pause to think what he had wanted to say next.

Sam shifted away and Dean grabbed at him again. “No. You’re not allowed to go. I won’t let you. I let you…” Dean swallowed. This was what he had wanted to say. “I let you do me. And I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“How was it your fault?” Sam was angry now. “Dean, I raped you. I might have been under a curse but…”

“Dude. I totally let you. I was lubing myself up and everything.” Dean wished he could let Sam go to have another slug of whisky. That would help this. “It was my fault you went so far. Not that it was bad, or anything. I mean, your dick was pretty… good.”

Dean didn’t know who was more embarrassed, Sam or himself. He managed to untangle his fingers and pat at the wrinkles on Sam’s shirt. Sam moved back but didn’t leave the bed. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips dryly over Dean’s mouth. He kept his head close for an instant, then started to move away. Dean quickly grabbed at Sam’s neck and pulled him in for a proper kiss. He opened his mouth under Sam’s and only let Sam go when he responded properly.

Sam kept kissing him for a moment longer, all tender nips and soothing tongue. Dean arched off the bed to get more contact and hissed when the dressing pulled again. Sam broke away then, breathing heavily.

“Couldn’t do that when I was cursed, I guess.” Sam’s voice was shaking.

Dean shuffled down the bed until he was lying down properly. He frowned at the bulge in his boxers. “Not so much. Now go switch on the TV and get the lights. You gonna be my bitch ‘til I’m all healed up.”

Sam let out a low chuckle even while he moved around the room, obeying Dean. He hesitated between the beds came over to Dean’s when he patted the sheets again. “Then you gonna be my bitch?”

Dean tried to come up with a clever response. He was too tired and warm and drugged up to think of one, so he just shrugged. He’d tell Sam in the morning.

 

As Dean climbed into the car, he smirked. Sam had left the horns on the front seat. Sam glared at them as he shut his door.

“What do you want to do with your horns, Sam?” Dean held up the long ivory coloured curls. “We could mount them on the front of the car? On the grill. We’d fit right in down Texas way then.”

“Bite me, Dean,” Sam muttered. He was obviously remembering some of the more embarrassing things he’d done under the curse’s influence.

Dean smiled. “Maybe later. If you’re a good boy and all.”

Sam’s cut-off laugh was all the answer he needed.


End file.
